


Ailing

by burntotears



Series: Achievement Hunter Prompts [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is sick and Gavin naturally freaks the fuck out while Ryan has to take care of the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ailing

Gavin rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he trudged into the kitchen, bumping against Ryan’s side. “Where’s Michael?” he asked groggily.

Ryan pressed a kiss against Gavin’s temple. “He hasn’t gotten up yet.”

The Brit slowed his advance toward the refrigerator and turned. “Wot? He’s always up before me.”

“Maybe he wanted to sleep in?” Ryan offered.

It didn’t sit well with Gavin, though, so he trudged back through the crew’s house toward Michael’s bedroom and slipped inside. “Michael?” he asked into the quiet darkness.

He heard mumbling and walked closer to the bed, wishing his eyes would adjust faster. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared, listening to the uneven falling and rising of the Jersey man’s breathing. When he could see finally, he reached over and placed a hand on Michael’s forehead. It was burning hot and Michael was clammy with sweat and shaking under his covers.

“Oh! Oh no, my boi, you’re a mess, oh no… _Ryan_!” Gavin turned his head and yelled, a desperate wailing of the older man’s name.

“Gav, s-shut fuck up,” Michael groaned, lifting a hand up to push at the Brit but only making it halfway before his weakness took over. Michael couldn’t even retaliate, this was really bad.

Ryan burst through the door, obviously distressed by Gavin’s tone of voice. “What?” he asked, moving toward the bed.

“Michael’s sick, Rye! Really sick, look at him!” Gavin gasped, the worry bubbling up in his stomach the longer he watched Michael’s discomfort. “Ryan, help him! Oh god, what if he _dies_?” Gavin was nearly on the verge of tears.

Ryan placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and helped him stand up. “Gavin, calm down,” Ryan said steadily and hugged him. “Go get the thermometer and a cold washcloth.”

The Brit nodded and anxiously left the room while Ryan sat down on the bed and pushed his hand over Michael’s forehead, brushing his sopping curls back. He looked pretty bad.

“Rye?” Michael asked quietly, leaning into the touch on his forehead.

“Yeah, I'm right here, Michael. Don’t worry,” Ryan soothed, brushing his other hand along Michael’s clammy arm.

“Murder that idiot,” Michael groaned and Ryan chuckled softly, placing a kiss on the sick man’s forehead. 

“He’s just scared, honey. He doesn’t know how to handle this stuff, you know that. I’ll do my best to keep him out of your hair though, I promise.” 

Michael just grumbled in response, a violent shiver tearing through him. Ryan frowned and stood up, snatching a new blanket from the closet and replacing the sweat soaked one that Michael was using with the fresh one. 

Gavin came back in, a sopping washcloth dripping all over the carpet and three thermometers in his other hand. “I didn’t know which one to get so I brought all of them!” Gavin squawked uncomfortably.

Ryan stood and took the towel from him, shaking his head. “Gavin, you need to calm down or I’m going to have to make you leave.”

“But Michael!” Gavin protested too loudly and then clamped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll be quiet.” He set the extra thermometers down and took the forehead one over to the other side of the bed, uncapping it. “Boi, I’m gonna take your temperature, okay?” Michael just grunted in response as Gavin ran the thermometer's sensor as gently as he could manage across his boyfriend’s forehead. The screen lit up red and the number flashed 102 degrees at him. Gavin squeaked and waved frantically at Ryan. “Rye, Rye, he’s got such a high fever!”

The blond wrung out the excess water from the washcloth over the dirty blanket and then placed it over Michael’s forehead, neatly folded. “Will you get some ice cubes, Gav?” he asked, brushing his fingers through Michael’s curls again.

The Brit hurried back out of the room and Ryan sighed. “How did you get so sick, sweetheart?” he cooed softly, feeling his heart wrench at the sight of Michael’s distress. He wasn’t exactly the best when it came to sick people, but dating Gavin and Michael at the same time had sort of pushed him into the realm of caregiver automatically. Gavin was obviously useless when it came to anyone being sick or injured and while Michael wasn’t as bad, he still got frustrated and angry too easily to be a great help. So they naturally looked to Ryan to make everything better.

Gavin returned again with a cup filled with ice cubes. “Does he need an ice bath, Rye?” Gavin asked, staring down at Michael with wide, terrified eyes.

“He’s not that bad, Gav. Come sit down next to me, okay?” Ryan held his hand out and the Brit took it, settling down with his legs crossed in front of Ryan near Michael’s head. Ryan held onto his hand, caressing his fingers along the back of the younger man’s palm, doing his best to settle him. 

“He looks awful though,” Gavin said quietly, unable to remove his gaze from the prone body on the bed. 

“I know, but we’re going to help him feel better.” Ryan pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Gavin. “Text Jack and ask her to grab some medicine on her way back. Flu meds should work.”

Gavin did as he was bid dutifully, glad to have a task so he wasn’t just staring in worry down at Michael. Ryan wrapped an ice cube inside the washcloth from Michael’s forehead and started to brush the soft material against his temple and neck, trying to bring down his fever. Michael shivered again, tugging the blanket tighter around his chest and Gavin gasped. “He’s cold, Ryan!” 

“Gavin,” Ryan said in a warning tone and Gavin closed his mouth, leaning against the headboard. “Hold his hand for me.” Gavin reached underneath the covers and laced his fingers into Michael’s clammy ones; the sick man squeezed weakly and Gavin sighed, feeling less stressed out from the contact.

“I love you, boi,” Gavin whispered and pressed a kiss into Michael’s sweaty hair. 

“Love you, idiot,” Michael responded in a guttural voice, making both of the other two smile fondly. 

“Rye’s gonna take care of you, love; just rest. We’ll get you better soon.”

Michael nodded and closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath before trying to go back to sleep. Ryan’s thumb caressed along the younger man’s cheekbone as he continued to brush the washcloth along Michael’s chest. “You’ll be alright, Michael.”

“Thanks, Rye-bread,” Michael mumbled, already half asleep. 

“You’re welcome, dear.” 

He looked up and smiled at Gavin who was grinning fondly at him. “Love you,” Gavin whispered.

“I love you too, Gavin.” 

Michael would be fine. He had at least one competent boyfriend who would be able to nurse him back to health. And Gavin would offer moral support the whole way.


End file.
